


A Song for the Sunrise

by OrangeRaven989



Series: Annette/Claude Cinematic Universe [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Byleth is here for the sole purpose of missing the point entirely, F/M, Feelings Realization, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Getting Together, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Pre-Relationship, Rare Pairings, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:14:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27104800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeRaven989/pseuds/OrangeRaven989
Summary: He couldn’t tell her the reason he was crying was that it had been five years since he’d last heard her sing.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Claude von Riegan
Series: Annette/Claude Cinematic Universe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2062686
Comments: 12
Kudos: 34





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the life of me I CANNOT understand why this ship isn't more popular. Guess I gotta cook my own meals, as per usual :)
> 
> Enjoy! Chapter 2 should be ready later this week.

It was incredible how five long years could go by in the blink of an eye. Five grueling years, in which each waking moment was viscerally felt, yet the time disappeared so quickly that entire weeks were lost in a haze. But the stress would do that. The stress of taking over the leadership of an entire country in the middle of the biggest political crisis in a lifetime, the stress of a fractured country nearing war with itself in addition to the outside aggressors, the stress of having to appear confident and competent even when every bone and every muscle yearned to go run and hide… it could seriously damage one’s own sense of time.

But things were different now.

The Professor was back, for one thing. And honestly, that was probably the most important thing to Claude. That he no longer had to go it alone, that there was someone he could actually, truly rely on to share even a fraction of the burden. And then there were his old classmates. The ones who had disappeared to all corners of Fodlan five years ago, who he couldn’t keep in touch with due to his new position, who he could never be sure were still alive after everything that happened. He almost didn’t even go back to the monastery. Judith would have killed him for even thinking about it if he hadn’t snuck out in the dead of night. But if there was any chance of seeing the Professor again, it was at Garreg Mach on the Millennium Festival, just as they’d all promised. And he wasn’t wrong.

What he hadn’t counted on, though, was the return of the entire Golden Deer class. Not just the residents of the Alliance, either—everyone who had transferred in. The faculty was there, too, and the Knights of Seiros. And even the residents of Abyss, who had apparently never left in the first place. For the briefest moment it almost felt like old times. But then the crushing weight of the war and his responsibility to lead his people through it pushed down on him harder than ever.

His face was never allowed to betray that burden, though. If his people lost faith in him… if they couldn’t look to him for hope, then they would crumble as well. And if they crumbled the Alliance would follow. No matter how much weight he had to bear, he had to bear it with the stoic face of a leader. There was no other choice.

But that could only last so long. Eventually he would break. Even buoyed by his ideals, the deep-down knowledge that he had the good of not only Fodlan but the entire world in his heart, he still faltered when he was alone. No one was immune to self-doubt. He still lay awake at night, the walls of his old dormitory room closing in on him, the pressure of holding the lives of his former classmates in his very hands. He sat up and tossed the blankets aside. The Professor could only help so much. She didn’t need to lead an entire country in addition to leading his friends.

He stepped out of his room and into the upstairs hallway. It was eerily quiet. Not that he expected anything different late at night, but still. The silence that enveloped him in that moment was unsettling. But he pushed on, making his way downstairs and finally out into the night air. It was cold.

Maybe he was exaggerating a bit, but Derdriu never even got remotely chilly. Pegasus Moon in the countryside was a lot different than what he was used to. The moon was hidden away behind gathering clouds, so the world around him was almost too dark to see. He just hoped the snow would hold out a little longer.

He needed something to take his mind off things. Not that anything was actually capable of that, but he could try at the very least. And the only thing he could think of that was accessible this late at night was the library. Maybe he could check in and see if Seteth was still policing the erotica. He grinned despite himself and set off, humming a tune as he walked.

It wasn’t until he was halfway across the monastery grounds that he realized what he was humming.

He could barely remember the words, but the melody was etched in stone in his mind. He strained to think… he’d analyzed the lyrics over and over, but that was five years ago. There were far more important things he had to remember since then. But he remembered the dark land and the frigid cold and smiled. Ages of loneliness. The sweet embrace of light. There were other words, in some order, lingering just on the fringes of his memory. It was a strange feeling… he was almost saddened that he couldn’t remember. But he continued on his way, humming the melody even if the words eluded him.

Still though, five years of loneliness really did feel like ages. And struggling to push his way through the muck and the mire of this war, in the dark and cold, desperate to see the light at the end of the tunnel… it was enough to make him shudder.

“Creepity creep,” he whispered to himself, still unable to figure out the strange feeling in his chest. He covered up the uncertainty with a chuckle, though he didn’t know who he was trying to convince.

His ears perked as he turned the corner toward the library, and he stopped cold. There was a voice. He thought about Lysithea and all the times he harassed her over her fear of ghosts, but honestly it was unsettling to hear a faint voice in the dead of night like that. He stood still, unsure of exactly what to do. If it really was a ghost and he ended up dead, their effort to fight back against the Empire would be totally flattened and the Alliance would fall. A strange thought to think in the moment, yes, and probably outrageously silly, but sleep deprivation would do that to you.

But it wasn’t a ghost, because ghosts weren’t real. So he continued on until he was just outside the library door, and then he stopped cold for a different reason.

He recognized the voice. And suddenly he felt that same lurch in his chest.

The pressure of his position was too much to bear sometimes. The need to always be a step ahead of everyone else. The need to focus and calculate and interpret correctly and predict and strategize. Everything. If he failed at any of it, everyone he cared about would suffer for his mistake. So even though he was back here, at the monastery, with everyone he cared about, he was shut off from them in the worst ways. He spent most of his days in the war council room—sometimes with the Professor, sometimes with Seteth, sometimes with Alois… with whoever he needed for the moment. But the amount of time he had to spend with his friends, his former classmates… that was almost nonexistent.

He never even said hello to half of them.

The voice was singing. He hadn’t heard that voice in five years. Five long, cold, dark years of desperation, trying to keep a country from splintering. He stepped to the open door and looked in and saw her—a clump of robes topped with bright orange hair, poring over a book just like the old days. But it wasn’t the old days. Her hair looked different now—better, actually—and her robes were elegant. He couldn’t see her face from his position, but he had a feeling it was as worn-down as his own, as everyone else’s. He wondered if her eyes still looked like the ocean.

His heart thumped, though he didn’t really understand why.

Her singing was soft enough that he couldn’t make out any of the words. But he didn’t need the words. Her voice was all that mattered, and it struck him hard. Really hard. And it wasn’t until he blinked and felt the tear run down his cheek that he realized he was crying. He sniffled without thinking, and immediately the singing stopped.

The silence in that moment was deafening.

But she slowly turned around in her chair, and his pulse quickened as her face became visible in the glow of the candlelight. Her eyes were wide with fear. She probably thought he was a ghost, as well.

When her eyes met his, though, her expression softened. Then she flushed crimson.

“Claude?” she squeaked. “Oh, Goddess… I thought you were… but… did you… hear… me?” Her voice got smaller and smaller with each word until she practically shrank into herself. “Oh, this is so embarrassing…”

He cleared his throat and brushed his eye as innocently as possible. Then, stepping into the room and approaching her, he forced a smile. “Hey, Annette. Been a while, huh?”

She was panting slightly, surely from being startled. She put one hand over her chest. “You scared me… I thought it might’ve been a… a ghost, or something.”

“Nope, no ghosts here,” he said, louder than he intended. “Just… me.” He scratched his head. “I couldn’t sleep, so I came to see if Seteth was still hiding the porn.”

Why the hell did he say that out loud?

But she giggled, and the sound of it cut him to pieces.

“I couldn’t sleep either,” she said. “Honestly, I haven’t been able to sleep at all since I got back.” She paused. “Too much worrying, all the time.”

He looked into her eyes—tired eyes, like his own, with heavy baggage under them. Yet somehow they still looked like he remembered them.

“Hey,” she continued, scrunching her freckly face and peering up at him inquisitively. “You look like you’ve been crying. Everything okay?”

He blinked. There was still a little wetness on his eyelashes. But he cleared his throat again and put on that jokester attitude he was so well known for. “Crying? Nah,” he said. “I was just, uh, practicing a new tactic for distracting my enemies. And you,” he said, pausing for effect, “fell for it.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You were crying.”

“No I wasn’t.”

Biting her lip, she turned back to her book and shut it tight. He didn’t want to keep up the charade. He wanted to say something… something real. She saw through him already, so why? Why hold it back? But something stopped him. He couldn’t tell her the reason he was crying was that it had been five years since he’d last heard her sing.

People become entirely different people in five years. But Annette was still Annette.

She rose from her chair, a warm smile at her lips. “I’ll forgive you for startling me if you tell me what’s got you down.”

Her head reached his chin and he wanted nothing more than to touch her—ruffle her hair or pat her shoulder or something. But he didn’t. He could barely move. This was the first time he’d really seen her since their return. Someone who begged to transfer into the Golden Deer so she could study magic alongside Lysithea and Marianne. Someone who brought half her class with her over the course of the following months. Students who were now here at the monastery, fighting alongside him and giving him their full support.

He could still hear her song echoing in his ears.

He lowered his eyes with an empty chuckle. “We’re at war, Annette,” he said. “Just about everything’s got me down.”

Her expression was one of knowing. One of empathy. Her smile was full of sorrow. “Want to talk about it?”

“It’s… not really proper,” he replied, though the words tasted awful on his tongue. “I shouldn’t be dumping my burdens on you guys.”

The corners of her smile dropped for the briefest moment, but she kept smiling anyway. Her eyes didn’t smile at all. He knew that feeling well.

“You realize who you’re talking to, don’t you?” she asked. “I’m, like, a professional when it comes to taking on other people’s burdens.”

His heart was racing. “Ah, I remember Hilda telling me stories.”

She groaned as she picked up her candle. The shadows it cast on her face were striking. “Hey, why don’t we walk back together? I promise I’m a good listener.”

“Are you sure you don’t just want someone to protect you from the ghosts?” he replied, hating himself. She was being genuine. Why couldn’t he just be genuine as well?

She rolled her eyes and started toward the door. “Don’t even try that, Claude,” she said. “I remember Lysithea telling _me_ stories.” When she got to the door she turned back to him. “But… also, yes. I hate the dark.”

They walked together down the stairs, his pulse racing the whole time. Neither of them spoke. It was hard to get the words out—he didn’t even know where to begin, much less how to be vulnerable for real. The joking and flippant attitude had always been a shield. But when you spend so long with the mask on, sometimes you forget how to take it off. And sometimes people don’t know how to react to your real face once they’ve seen it. But she was patient—probably just happy to have someone to keep her company on the way back.

“There’s really not much to talk about,” he said, finally, when they reached the reception hall. “Basically it just comes down to pressure. A lot of it.”

She nodded. “I bet,” she replied. “I can’t even imagine how stressful it is to lead an entire army. Or an entire country.” She lowered her eyes. “I can barely command my battalion without second-guessing myself.”

“Self-doubt and second-guessing are all part of the package,” he replied. “I’ve never made a decision that didn’t keep me awake at night.”

Their footsteps echoed in the empty hall.

“But I have people counting on me,” he continued. “And no matter how I feel I still need to keep making those decisions.”

“I think we’re all paralyzed with worry,” Annette whispered. “I know I am. There’s just so much going on, and we all have so much weight on our shoulders.” She glanced up at him, her face still flickering in the candlelight. “But the fact that we’re all worrying doesn’t mean you’re not a good leader.” She scoffed. “I don’t think there’s anything in the world that could make me stop worrying. Even when the war ends I’ll find something.”

He smiled. She was probably right, and it was refreshing to hear that. They stepped out into the cold, the breeze picking up and chilling him to the bone. The naked trees swayed, the bare branches scraping against the glass of the windows. Annette jumped at the sound, dropping the candle and clutching Claude’s arm with a yelp. He inhaled sharply.

After a moment her eyes bulged and she let go. “Oh, Goddess, I’m so sorry!” She cleared her throat, her cheeks pink in the light of the moon through the parting clouds. “You’re the leader of the Alliance, and I’m clinging to you like a frightened child…”

He laughed despite himself. “Oh, please,” he said. “We’re friends, Annette. No need for any formalities.”

“We’re… friends?” she asked slowly, eyes widening.

His heart thumped again. “Uh, yeah, of course.” He scratched his head. “Look, I know I probably haven’t been that great of one… but I promise it has nothing to do with you. Any of you. I just… can’t put the work aside.” He sighed and looked ahead, and they began walking again. “It’s not just you, Annette. I’m afraid I’ve been neglecting everyone important to me lately.”

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Her cheeks were still pink, and he could barely make out the sight of her silently mouthing the word “important.”

After a moment of silence she looked up again. “I know how you feel, I think,” she said. “About not being able to put the work aside.” She smiled, hesitantly. “I think we’re a lot more alike than I originally thought.”

Her smile cut right through him. “You know, you should come to the war council,” he said. “You’ve got a real good sense of tactics.”

Her eyes widened. “Huh?”

“I need you, Annette.”

“Huh?!”

His own eyes widened at his words. “Um, I mean… I need your insight.” He cleared his throat and looked away, certain his cheeks were as pink as hers. “I… didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.”

His mind was screaming at him. His heart wouldn’t settle. A part of him wondered if he really did mean it like that.

And that same part of him swore he saw a flicker of disappointment in her eyes at his hurried cover-up.

“You…” she began, voice shaking. “You really think I can help?”

He blinked, genuinely taken aback. “Well, yeah, of course. You’re brilliant.”

She stood, looking dumbfounded. Like she was legitimately surprised to hear that. “Um, thank you, Claude,” she said. “I’ve been trying to do all I can to help everyone, but sometimes…”

He smiled in understanding. “Sometimes you feel like nothing you do matters, is that it?”

She nodded.

“Well,” he said, voice shaking for a reason he was starting to comprehend, “what you do matters.”

They continued on in silence, both averting each other’s gazes. It was funny; he didn’t think about Annette much over the past five years. Although, to be fair, he didn’t have time to think of any of his friends. Occasionally Lorenz, but that was for different—and more unpleasant—reasons. Keeping the Gloucesters from defecting to the Empire took up a lot of his energy. But walking with her now, he couldn’t imagine how he’d gone so long without picturing her face. Her… very pretty face. And he wondered how many times he hummed one of her songs under his breath without realizing it. He sighed. No way to know now.

Yes, he was definitely starting to comprehend.

It didn’t take long for them to reach the bottom floor dormitories. Annette’s room sat just below Hilda’s for some reason; he never did understand how they determined which nobles would be on the ground floor, but apparently House Dominic wasn’t notable enough to warrant elevation. He scoffed. If the war went his way, things like that would disappear into the history books, never to matter again.

She stopped at her door and turned to meet his eye. “Thanks for walking me back,” she replied. “I still do get a little nervous in the dark.”

“At least you admit to it,” he replied. “Unlike a certain other sorceress.”

“I’ll come by the war council tomorrow,” she said. “It… it’ll be nice to see you more regularly, Claude.”

“Yeah,” was all he could think to reply. He chewed his lip a moment, then added, “And it’ll be nice for our future interactions to _not_ be predicated on me walking in on you while you’re singing.”

She flushed crimson again. “You’re mean,” she said, though her voice clearly held no malice.

“Seriously though, thank you, Annette.”

Her brow furrowed. “For what?”

His breath caught in his throat. Just say it.

“It was nice to hear your voice again after all this time,” he replied. “I really, really missed it.” Then he waved and walked away, hurrying just a little, unable to turn back and see her reaction. He squeezed his eyes shut and made for the stairs to his room, though he knew he wouldn’t be sleeping. Once again his mind would keep him awake, though this time it was for a different reason: he now understood that he was in love with Annette Fantine Dominic.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude and Annette take another walk and watch the sunrise. Things are said, confessions are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bending canon *just a little* in that I imply the Annette/Claude A support happened pre-timeskip. Anyway, here's a nice fluffy ending for ya!
> 
> Thinking of doing more with this timeline in the future, just need to brainstorm some ideas. We'll see how it goes :)

The war council was painfully awkward. For many reasons, but one in particular stood out. And that reason had bright orange hair and deep blue eyes and a blush on her cheeks that _did not go away_ the entire time and deepened every time their eyes met. The lack of sleep didn’t help, either, but he was at least used to working through that. No, this was much, much different. He stumbled over his words when he asked her for her advice on the route for their supply run, and she stumbled over her words when she gave it. Lorenz snarked about it. Shamir smirked. It was awful.

The next day was even worse. The stark difference in his composure when talking to literally anyone else versus talking to Annette couldn’t have been more readily apparent. Anyone watching the session could figure it out. For someone who prided himself on being impossible to read, he was quickly becoming a pop-up picture book.

The Professor hung back after the meeting ended, and the two of them sat together at the conference table. He wasn’t sure what was going to come out of her mouth—she was also notoriously hard to read—but he dreaded it all the same.

“You should get more sleep,” she said.

He chuckled. Honestly, it was a relief. “No worries, Teach,” he replied. “I’ll have Manuela whip me up something good.”

“She’ll give you booze,” the Professor replied. “That’s not good for sleeping. You should probably ask someone else.”

He left with a smile on his face. Booze probably wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world at the moment. At least he could count on the Professor to miss the fact that he was crushing on Annette by a mile.

The day slipped past him again and before he knew it he was lying in bed, staring up once more at the rickety boards that sat between him and the stars. Maybe he really did need Manuela to give him something strong. If this kept up he’d be unable to even function on the battlefield, much less command a battalion. And he didn’t need to remind himself of the ramifications of failing.

It was late. Really late. Or perhaps really early. He didn’t know the time, but it was closer to sunrise than sunset, that was for sure. Honestly his head and eyes were killing him. Both were sore and throbbing, the lack of sleep truly catching up with him. But it was impossible to keep his mind from wandering. He cycled through his nightly worries—all of them, multiple times—but now he had a new thing he couldn’t get out of his mind. And that thing was Annette’s face. Her adorable, freckly face. And her voice. The sweet sound of her voice, repeating in his ears the songs he couldn’t remember the words to.

She’d become so beautiful.

He smiled. No, she had always been beautiful. He’d just been too preoccupied to notice.

A soft knock on the door made his ears perk. He reached for his dagger and gripped it tight, eyes narrowing. The knock came again, and this time there was a very hushed voice saying his name on the other side. The voice cut through him, and he dropped the dagger immediately. He got up and hurried to the door.

She stood on the other side, cheeks pink, hands fidgeting.

It was hard for him to get any words out, but he managed. “Uh, hey, Annette,” he said quietly, not wanting to wake anyone. “Surprised you’re up this late.”

She was still fidgeting. “Sorry if I woke you, Claude,” she said. “I figured I’d knock quietly in case you were asleep, but tried to do it loud enough that you’d hear it if you were awake, but I think I did it too loud, and I hope I didn’t—”

He chuckled. “You’re fine,” he replied. “I wasn’t sleeping.”

Her cheeks reddened even more. “Oh,” she said. “Um, good, then.”

“What’s up?”

Her eyes were glued to her shoes. “Do you… want to take a walk?”

“A walk?”

She dragged her eyes up to meet his. “Yeah,” she replied. “I kinda… wanted to talk with you again.”

His heart thumped so hard he was afraid his ribs would crack. “Uh, yeah, sure,” he said. “A walk would be nice.”

They proceeded down the stairs and out into the cold night again, just like before. She continued to avoid his gaze.

“Thanks again for trusting me to be part of the war council,” she said. She lowered her eyes. “Though I feel like I haven’t been contributing much.”

It was the early hours of the morning and the sky was even beginning to brighten at the horizon. Thanking him could not have been the only reason she wanted to talk. His hands trembled at his side and he couldn’t keep his breathing steady.

“You’re a huge help around here, Annette,” he replied. “Don’t ever doubt that.” He paused a moment before continuing, voice just barely shaking. “I… I’m really glad you came back, you know, to the monastery.” He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “It’s been nice to see you and talk to you again after all this time.”

“It’s… been good to see you again, too,” she replied quietly, a warm smile at her lips.

The voice in his head was screaming to just tell her.

She stopped when they reached the fishing pond. They hadn’t walked very far, but she sat at the water’s edge and gestured for him to join her. He obliged and sat beside her, leaving a healthy space between them. It looked like she noticed.

“I’ve been restless lately,” she said. “About the war, obviously, but even more than that. Just… you know, about the future.”

He nodded but didn’t say anything. Hard to blame her, really.

She continued. “Professor Hanneman asked me what it is I want to do after this is all over. I wasn’t sure at first, but I think I know now.”

He smiled inwardly. Hearing her talk about herself was nice. As much as he admired her and valued her insight and… well, everything else… he didn’t really know much about her. He didn’t know her hopes and dreams.

“What’s that, Annette?”

She turned to him and beamed. “I think… I think I’d like to be a teacher,” she said. “I’ve been thinking about the Officer’s Academy, you know, back before everything happened. How it brought us all together, from all over Fodlan… how we all became friends despite our different backgrounds.” She tilted her head back and looked up at the sky. “I’d love to be part of something like that.”

He closed his eyes. There was almost the hint of new tears again. It was funny, really, how easy it was for her to utterly destroy him. He hung on to every word she said. Every word resonated with him. He hadn’t shared his dreams with anyone at all—his real dreams, the ones he thought about at night but didn’t give voice to. The dreams about knocking down all the walls and opening the world up to the world.

And here sat Annette, giving voice to that same dream without any hesitation. If only he could have one single ounce of her heart, her spirit. Her strength.

“That sounds incredible, Annette,” he replied. “I mean it. Chase that dream, please.”

Her eyes widened. “You really think so?”

He nodded. “I do,” he replied. “And once we win this war, I’d like to help you make that dream a reality.”

Silence took over for a long moment before she spoke again.

“Claude…”

His ears burned, though he couldn’t tell if that was from the cold or not. He caught her eye. Her cheeks were redder still.

“I… I have to ask something,” she continued.

“Hmm?”

She bit her lip before proceeding. “What you said to me the other night… about… you know.” She took a deep breath. “Is that why you were crying?”

He smiled and leaned back on his arms and gazed up at the sky, which was still growing lighter. “Yeah, it was,” he replied. He hesitated, then pushed through. “I don’t know what came over me, but hearing you singing again… it was like a memory from before, you know, all this… and I realized how much I missed it.” He looked back at her. “Your singing, I mean.”

“I remember you liked it back then, too.”

A moment passed. “I think I like it for a different reason, now.”

She sighed. “Not a lot to sing about these days.”

“I bet.”

The cold breeze picked up and they inched closer together—unconsciously, at least on his part. But as soon as he realized it he felt his cheeks burn. Ugh, feeling like this was not something he was used to. But the fact that she moved closer as well… the fact that she was even out here at all, that she came to his door long past midnight… there was something to that, he hoped. And maybe if he could put on a brave face and let himself be a little vulnerable, maybe it would be worth it.

“I tried to write a song,” he said.

She looked over. “I remember,” she replied. “You gave me the lyrics and had me sing them. And…” She hesitated. “And you said they were about me.”

He remembered that. It was odd—it hadn’t felt weird then to do that. Maybe because he hadn’t thought about Annette that way back then. At least, not consciously.

“That’s not what I mean,” he said. “I mean today. Just now. While I was lying awake, I tried to put some words together.”

“Oh, really?”

He nodded. “I don’t think I’m anywhere close to your level, though.”

It may have been his imagination, but he swore she inched just a little closer.

“What… was it about?”

He wasn’t sure his heart could take any more. It was pumping way too fast, and yes, she was definitely closer now than she was a moment ago. If he didn’t go for it now he would never forgive himself.

He turned and looked her in the eye. “It… was about you, Annette.” A pause. “Again.” Another pause. “Sorry, I’m sure that makes me sound like _I’m_ a creepity creep.”

She giggled. “No, it’s… okay, that was cute.” She took a breath. “I’m flattered, really.” She ran a finger through her hair and toyed with one of the strands. “And now I’m a little flustered, too.”

The sky was giving way to sunrise. There were hues of pink and orange just above the walls of the monastery. He wanted so badly in this moment to reach out and take her into his arms, to pull her in tight. He wanted to share his dreams with her, the ones he hid from everyone else. He wanted to tell her not to worry about the war, not to lose sleep, not to harden her heart to what was to come. Part of it would be about convincing himself as well. But he couldn’t do that. He was scared, she was scared—they all were. Nothing was certain, and lying about it and saying everything would be just fine wasn’t going to magically make everything better.

But maybe he could start with something tangible.

“The sun’s coming up,” she said, her voice betraying her nerves.

“You know,” he said, “back home I would wake up early and watch the sun come up over the sea. The colors were really amazing.”

“Back in Derdriu?”

He smiled but didn’t answer her. “The sunrise is really nostalgic for me.” Closing his eyes, he took a breath. Time to go for it. “You remind me of those sunrises back home.”

“I… I do?”

“Your hair is the morning sky and your eyes are the sea, sparkling in the light.”

He wasn’t looking at her but he could tell she was blushing hard.

“Oh, goddess… I don’t…”

Finally he turned to her. He was right.

“Annette, you’re very special to me,” he said, voice wavering. “I didn’t really realize it until now, but it’s true. And…” he trailed off, but there was no point in hesitating. “And maybe when we win this war and don’t have to worry every day of our lives… maybe you’d want to come watch that sunrise with me?”

“Claude…” Her hand shot to her mouth, but then she slowly lowered it. She chewed her lip. “I… um… I don’t know how to say this.” She lowered her eyes a moment.

“Say it, Annette.”

“I know it’s not… proper…” she said, eyes wandering. “I know you’re like… I mean, not a king, but like… you know… and I’m just a sorceress with grand dreams of becoming a schoolteacher, but… I can’t help it.” She swallowed. “I have feelings for you.”

Claude choked back another wave of tears and covered it up with a smirk. “So, is that a yes on the sunrise?”

She smiled all the way to her eyes, her face as pink as the sky on the horizon. Leaning in, she met his lips with her own. It was quick, but it said everything that needed to be said. Then she pulled back, eyes unwavering, and gave a gentle, wordless nod. They closed the remaining distance between them and sat together, watching the sun come up and sparkling in the light of the new dawn.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Find me on Twitter: [OrangeRaven989](https://twitter.com/OrangeRaven989)


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